Three and a half weeks into this forty-day journey through Lent, we may have become lost. Perhaps we have returned to our normal habits, chafing under the disciplines of fasting, prayer, and almsgiving. Perhaps we’ve slipped and found ourselves rationalizing our failures. The story of the prodigal son, which we hear today, reminds us that no matter what we have done or failed to do, God stands always ready to welcome us back. No matter how far we have strayed, rejoice! for we are never too far gone to return to God.​

 

We can identify with the soliloquy of the prodigal son, especially if one is cynical enough to read it not as an undiluted expression of heartfelt conversion, but rather as a calculation about survival. If read as a straight narrative of religious conversion it can appear clumsy or wooden, and the indignation of the elder brother merely churlish. But thanks to the penetration of biblical studies by the subtleties of modern literary criticism we are learning to read Luke as a great master of narrative art, insinuating a wider spectrum of intricate motives than conventional piety normally takes account of.

The phrase “coming to himself” (15:17) “does not on its own signify repentance. As one exegete says: ‘Coming to one’s senses’ is more the idea,” although “shades of repentance are clearly evident.” At best they are shades, and even then, they are far from evident. The “conversion” is prompted by destitution and impossible to dissociate from economic considerations. The speech the prodigal rehearses for his father is skillfully calculated to win back his favor, and in what he says to himself there is no reference to any injury done to his father: “How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants’ (15:17-19). A more honest speech would begin, “Father, I’ve come back because I am dying of hunger,” so, as another exegete says, “the lie by omission is flagrant.”

This soliloquy, like the other calculating soliloquies that dot Luke’s Gospel, meets reversal that overthrows the petty standards of the calculator, for the father forgives the son when he sees him at a distance and interrupts his rehearsed speech before he can say “treat me as one of your hired servants,” a phrase that is not the deepest level of self-abasement, since the servants were paid; “the finesse of a narrator without any illusion about certain discourses of repentance” is to be admired. The paternal response is not in the same key of calculation as the soliloquy, and its generosity undercuts the son’s cautious and mistrustful performance. The son’s judgement thus fell short of the mark, just as his brother’s calculations of merit and reward (15:29-30) are tangential to the father’s uncalculating love for the sons.

The clear protagonist of today’s parable is the father. Twice he repeats his cry of joy: “This son of mine was dead and has come back to life; he was lost and is found”. This cry reveals what’s in the father’s heart. This father isn’t worried about his own dignity or honor, nor how his son has treated him. Does not use the language of morality. He only thinks about his son’s recovery: his precious son isn’t dead after all but is restored to life.

 

This story describes in detail the meeting of the father with this son who had abandoned house and home. Even when the returning son was still some way off, the father spotted him, recognized him and was moved down in his heart. Only the father’s kindness and compassion can save us. Only God sees us and understands us so fully. Look at who does the running. It’s not the homecoming son; it’s the father who runs and who reaches out in welcome. “He caught him by the neck and kept kissing him”. Jesus tells us that God like that: running with open arms to welcome those who come back.

 

The son starts his confession: he’s been planning it for a long time. The father interrupts him to save him more humiliation. He doesn’t impose a penance, demands no ritual of expiation; he places no condition on welcoming him home. The father cares about his son’s dignity. So, he gets the servants to bring him the best clothes, a household ring, and sandals to walk home. There he will be received at a banquet celebrated in his honor. To his amazement, the son is restored to the happiness of the life he had so casually thrown aside when he left.

 

Whoever listens to this parable from the heart will know it applies to himself, or herself. They will feel, maybe for the first time, that in the depths of life there is Someone who welcomes us and forgives us, unconditionally, someone who only wants us to have fullness of life. ​

 

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So, he told them this parable:

 

“There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So, he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living.

 

When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So, he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” ‘So, he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe” the best one-and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

 

“Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”​